


flowers of fragility

by kagehinataboke



Series: kagehina one-shots [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Challenges, Drama, Eventual Romance, Fate & Destiny, Language of Flowers, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagehinataboke/pseuds/kagehinataboke
Summary: The very first time the dark hydrangeas sprouted from his skin, Hinata was struck dumb and sat in his desk at school, staring down at the delicate blue blossoms in silent wonder. He knew that this happened to everyone eventually, but it was still a mystifying and fantastic thing to witness flowers sprouting from human skin without the help of sunlight, soil, or water.— a kagehina one-shot based off prompt: "flowers bloom on you where your soulmate is injured."





	flowers of fragility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silver_Hyacinth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Hyacinth/gifts).



Flowers are many things: The seed-bearing part of a plant, the best person out of a group, the ability to produce buds; to bloom. Each one is unique, and because of that, Hinata had always been especially fond of them.

The very first time the dark hydrangeas sprouted from his skin, he was struck dumb and sat in his desk at school, staring down at the delicate blue blossoms in silent wonder. He knew that this happened to everyone eventually, but it was still a mystifying and fantastic thing to witness flowers sprouting from human skin without the help of sunlight, soil, or water.

It was such a moving event, he couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone about it. If he did, it would somehow become less special; less beautiful. Hinata wanted those beautiful blue flowers to stay _his_ and his, forever, but it was inevitable for others to see them: after all, they bloomed everywhere from his arms to his cheeks. He even remembered crying once when one of his classmates pointed out a patch on the back of his neck because his special secret had finally been exposed.

When his parents heard about the incident from his teacher, they sat him down that night and talked to him about it for the second time, reassuring him it was normal for everyone—though they had obviously misunderstood his reaction as misconception rather than possessiveness.

After that day, he covered himself with baggier clothes to hide the beautiful blossoms from the rest of the world, but he didn’t feel so protective of them after that. He would see his mother showing off her skin in the summer, the snow white lilies clustered on her skin in full display whenever they appeared. She would hold hands and laugh with his father, not a care in the world.

Hinata knew he was selfish and childish to hide his flowers, but he felt like someone else seeing them was an invasion of privacy. The only one he wanted to share them with was his soulmate. Somewhere out in the world, there was a person covered in _his_ flowers. Whenever he got a cut, he thought about that, wondering what kind of flora decorated the skin of his fated partner.

Supposedly someone’s flowers represented an aspect of their personality or appearance, and Hinata _really_ hoped his weren’t orange. He was already pretty conscious of his bright red hair, and since he got hurt so often, he didn’t want his soulmate covered in gaudy orange petals.

He couldn’t think of any orange flowers that were pretty… His father’s pristine white lilies represented his gentle sympathetic nature whereas his mother’s sweet-smelling wisteria reflected her natural devotion to those she cared about. As for hydrangeas… according to Japanese legend, they were connected to heartfelt emotions, fragility and apology specifically. They were somewhat of a sad flower, and Hinata became somber whenever looking at them.

It was said you would just _know_ when you met your soulmate for the first time. Hinata’s mother had told him the story of meeting his father: working at a café during the summer of her last year of high school. She had seen him and somehow instantly _felt_ that her wisteria belonged to him, and his lilies to her. It was a magical story, and it had excited Hinata when he was young and easily wonder-struck. 

Now, though, he ached for that feeling constantly.

What if he was broken, somehow? What if he _didn’t_ realize the feeling? What if he never encountered them, at all? Would he live forever in the mystery of those hydrangeas, never knowing who they belonged to—who _he_ belonged to?

Hinata worried about that a lot; probably more than he should. 

*** * * ***

When he entered high school, Hinata became withdrawn and often stuck to himself, reserving himself to his studies. He would go for long runs in the early morning, well before sunrise, and stay up late at night studying. He left himself no room to worry about the future.

When Golden Week came along and he got off school, Hinata began to help out at the café his parents ran. He worked with the same sincerity as he did during school, and for once, he began to open up again. His little sister hung around the shop and she made him laugh constantly, making faces at him when he was serving customers and drawing little animals on old receipts.

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirts now and wore lower necklines, feeling a strange sense of freedom that came with working alongside his family. He didn’t even realize he was doing it until a customer commented on it.

It was raining, and there weren’t many people in the café that day, but she was one of the regulars who often came over during her lunch break since the publishing company she worked for was right across the street. Hinata had spoken to her a few times, but never held a full conversation, so it was surprising when she spoke up to him out of the blue while he was cleaning the table beside hers.

“Those are hydrangeas on your wrist,” she noted, sipping her latte delicately. She eyed him as he covered his left arm self-consciously and sipped again. “I notice you seem to be ashamed of them, in some way. Do you not like hydrangeas?”

“No, that’s— that’s not it.” Hinata lowered his hand and resumed his chore with a grimace. “I’m just… not used to people seeing them, is all.”

“Ah.” She smiled into her cup. “I don’t know why you would want to hide them. They’re quite beautiful, and they smell sweet, too.” She set down her drink and crossed one wrist over the other with a small smile. “Do you know the meaning of the hydrangea, Hinata-kun?”

He frowned, pausing momentarily in his cleaning to think about it. “They… were given as a gift of apology to someone, right?”

The woman’s smile deepened, dimpling the corners of her lips. “That’s right, but that’s not the whole story. There was once an emperor, and he neglected the one he loved in favor of business. To make it up to her and show her his devotion, he bestowed upon his love a bunch of hydrangeas as a sign of apology and love.” She hummed slightly, staring out at the rain. “It’s a rather touching story, really. Hydrangeas are a flower of deep _feeling_. You’re lucky to have them.”

“I… didn’t know that…”

Biting his lip, Hinata followed her gaze to peer out at the storm as his mother delivered the woman’s check and she retrieved the jacket from the back of her chair. While she pulled it on over her slender shoulders, she flashed Hinata a knowing smile. “It’s true. And, you know… I have a feeling you won’t be waiting much longer for the thing you seek.”

As she ducked out of the door, bell sounding cheerfully in response, Hinata spotted a sprig of white chrysanthemum curling up the back of her pale neck: the flower of truth.

*** * * ***

Later in the day, business died down to a trickle and Hinata sat slumped behind the counter, listening to the thunder and hush of the rain with his eyes closed. The soothing sound of the storm outside was beginning to lull him into a half-sleep when the bell chimed, signaling the arrival of a new customer.

Hinata didn’t open his eyes, yawning as he reached blindly for a pen from the cup on the counter, preparing to take down an order. As the sound of footsteps approached, he tore his eyelids open with some difficulty and spoke the standard greeting, “Hello and welcome to—”

As he locked eyes with the stranger, who was still dripping wet and shivering from the rain, Hinata felt a sudden, intense throbbing sensation in his chest and his hand slammed down on the counter to steady himself—right into a sharp pair of scissors. “OWWWWWW!”

He cupped his bleeding hand, stamping his foot in a vain attempt to lessen the pain, and thwacked his forehead against the counter in agony, whining like a broken air conditioner. “Ow ow ow _owww_ …”

“Are, um— are you okay?” 

A pale hand reached out to him, palm cupped around a still-sprouting handful of marigolds. 

They were pretty, like powdered gold, and Hinata stared at them for a mystified moment before he snapped out of it and scrambled for a bandage behind the counter. “I— I’m fine! Just clumsy!” As he stuck one on his palm, laughing stupidly, Hinata could feel the stranger staring at him and flushed. He could _actually_ die of embarrassment… How stupid did you have to be to stab yourself with _scissors_?

“You have a hydrangea on your left forearm.”

The blunt words threw him for a loop and Hinata finally stopped his flurry of actions to stand still and look at the stranger properly for the first time. He had to tilt his head up to see him—he was so _tall_ —and felt like he heart might stop as their eyes locked. “Um… I… _do_.” His hand drifted over to cover them hesitantly. “You have… marigolds on your hand?” Were they stating the obvious here?

The stranger pulled up the sleeve of his damp black sports sweatshirt with an impatient sigh and scratched at a white bandage close to his wrist. “I really didn’t think they’d be _hydrangeas_ , of all things… Geez.”

“Didn’t think… they’d… be…” Hinata trailed off slowly. “I’m sorry; I’m confused.”

“You _can_ tell, can’t you?” The boy pressed their arms together, dark eyes deep and serious, just like the rainstorm outside. “These flowers: they’re mine.”

“Yours…?” Hinata’s breath caught in disbelief as he stared at their skin side by side, the evidence staring him right in the face. Their wounds matched exactly. _Marigolds in his hand. So they’re really orange, after all, but… not ugly._

As their gazes locked again, Hinata felt his heart clench. It _did_ make sense…

This stranger’s eyes: they were the _exact_ same shade as his hydrangeas.


End file.
